To Solve A Murder
by small-squad
Summary: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are solving cases as it's always been in 221 B of London. But, a borrower named Jace had a part in trying to stop the newest murder from happening. Now the boy is left to sit in guilt about how he couldn't save the man until he again over hears of another murder soon to happen. Should he try to stop it, or leave all human problems to their selves?
1. Only A Case

"Come now John. The poor girl need help to find out who had killed her husband. It's obvious he was sleeping with another woman but she had nothing to do with it since she _also_ was sleeping with another man. It couldn't have been her at all, there's no motive," Sherlock groaned. John kept asking about why he had to take the case. It seemed too, weird.

"I know she didn't do it. It's just, she was a little loony," John snapped.

"John, every person is. I on the other hand only treasure knowledge and am not incredibly annoying so that makes me perfect."

"Mmmhmm," was all John said.

The problem was that John had a point. The woman kept talking about little noises in the night, like footsteps. They offered to call an exterminator over to get the rats out, but she panicked saying she'd have _none_ of that. They'd be killing people if they did that, not rats. Sherlock deducted that it was because she was mourning over her husband, no matter how messed up the relationship is. But she seems perfectly normal in all other states of mind.

The two walk down the street and up the stairs into 221 B. Sherlock immediately lays on the sofa while John actually does something productive such as making tea.

"So who killed him?" John asks.

"Oh it was the wife who he slept with's husband. He used his trademark of a rope maker in the factor an hour away to kill him. Problem was he used the exact same rope he's been making for the past four years as the noose. Too much evidence that could be traced back to him, DNA markings will make it a legal arrest, dull, dull, dull." There's silence as John walks into the room, placing a cup of tea on the table.

"And what about that scribbled note we saw on the floor?" he says.

Ah, the note.

At the crime scene, with Scotland Yard making a fool of themselves again for saying it was a suicide, there was a tiny bit of paper on the floor. It couldn't have been bigger than a postage stamp and on it was a note written in the smallest of hand writings. The oddest thing though had been the actual note. It read _don't open the door for ANYONE. killer is coming._

"How could someone have known Stenson was going to get killed? And, even more, why do it so tiny, so unprofessional it could have been bluntly ignored or was never seen? Were they guilty about knowing about it, but would've been killed if known about telling the victim what would happen?" Sherlock thought out loud.

"I haven't the slightest idea. But, lets look more into the person before we take the case," Watson mutters.

"Dull. Don't make me shoot the wall again," was the answer. The doctor just shakes his head and leaves to his bedroom.

He _really_ needs to get some time off from Sherlock. It's bad for his health.


	2. The Writer

He's dead. He's dead and I didn't stop it. I could've but he just ignored the stupid note. WHY! It's about him getting _killed_. Wouldn't everyone heed death notes?

The tiny borrower Jace paced his living room, staring at the ground.

It's been two days since the man was killed. And for two days Jace has been drowning in guilt and sorrow. The note may have made a bigger impact had it been bigger but what was he to do! Just stroll up to the guy all two and a half inches and yell "HEY! YOU'RE GONNA GET KILLED!" and hope he doesn't crush or grab you?

Jace rubs his face and groans. How did his life come to this? All he wanted to do was to live peacefully in London. No family holding him back to make him stay in one place and he could go where ever he wanted. No sentiment ties, no emotional states of worry, unhappiness and grief, Just, float, for the lack of a better word.

But he _had_ to overhear a conversation while changing homes and get tied into the whole mess of he's-dead-when-you-could-have-stopped-it thoughts.

"Just forget about it. You can't change it. And, those two guys locked the right guy away! No one knows you exist and Stenson is avenged," he mutters. Jace takes one look around his so called "living room" and practically sprints out into the street.

It was raining before, but now all of the floods have gone and the sidewalks had barely anyone on them. Jace sighs contently, breathing in the beautiful fresh air, starts to carefully walk down the street to not be seen.

The borrower tries to think about how lucky he is to end up in London, AND to have survived all his own for over three years now. But even as he thought about how he would have to collect more food very soon, he kept thinking about the man killed.

Stenson is avenged. Also, he shouldn't have been sleeping with some other girl while he was married, never mind with a _married women_. He got what he deserved, as some humans would see it as. Like karma. Just evening out the wrongs with a murder and an arrest.

Jace stops where the wall hanging over the sliver of sidewalk ends and the ally begins. He sighs, staring out into the clouded grey sky.

He's not supposed to be having HUMAN problems!

Suddenly a huge black shoe lands right in front of him. Jace yanks himself back to the wall, hugging it for dear life. By he looks of it, it's a man wearing a grey trench coat. And with all the white hairs decorating it everywhere, it's safe to say the man owns a dog, and one he loves too if he didn't care to get white fur on a grey coat. The shoe doesn't move, almost like it's waiting for someone.

Sure enough, another pair of black shoes, Italian loafers, comes walking down the ally. Pari Number 2 wears a white trench coat, with no odd smells radiating off him to indicate a pet or living with someone. So, out of the two, Pair Number 1 seems to be the worker, not holding himself very high while Pair Number 2 has a stoic atmosphere.

"Are you sure you have the right skills to pull it off?" A gravel voice rips Jace from his thoughts as the two men start to talk.

"Of course. What do you think I am, a shoe shiner? I only answered you because you want a sniper," Pair Number 1 retorts. Ah, so he is the worker. Wait! SNIPER!

"Good. I'll meet with Jay at the warehouse. Make sure you shoot him in the forehead. It looks so much better at funerals when you're not having to see the exit wound."

The two keep talking in hushed voices, thinking no one knew what they were saying. But Jace heard. And the borrower thought he was going to go out of his mind.

The rest of the conversation went on without anyone hearing it. The words sniper, funeral, warehouse, and shooting were bouncing around his mind. He had to stop this! But, he's just one tiny borrower already way over his head! Jace looked up at the sky with pleading eyes.

What was he to do?


	3. A Choice

Jace found himself back in his living room, packing all he had to hit the road.

He had no sleep what so ever last night. He kept thinking of the dead man and how he knows of yet any other murder going to happen. In the end, he realized that as long as he stops this one, he would never feel guilty again and therefore leave everything else to let the humans deal with it. The problem was where to start.

Jace remembered that the detective from three days ago had managed to solve the case using techniques of deduction usually only borrowers use. He seemed so keen to detail that nothing went unnoticed, even his note to Stenson. So, with the help of the police chief's files (his name may have been Lester?), Jace was able to find out this Holmes character lives in 221 B, Baker Street.

Maybe now his note won't be ignored and a human's life will be saved. After all this, he'll freely be able to skip from house to house.

Jace slings his borrowing back across his shoulder. A leather water canteen, a paperclip with fishing line tied to it, crumbs from a pastry the old woman he lives with now dropped, and a blankets lays in the well made bag. After checking to make sure he didn't leave any food laying around, he leaps out of the hole and onto the sidewalk, running toward a storm drain.

He was lucky he lives right next to Baker Street, or else he may have gotten the message too late. Jace is a good borrower, not clumsy or risky, but he is only about three inches tall so moving from one street to the next is very time consuming.

As soon as he reaches the drain, he looks around for humans but once the coast is clear, leaps into the hole, knowing already how shallow the fall is. Remembering to turn left and keep walking in a straight line until he sees an engraving reading "Baker Street", Jace walks down the storm drain.

SRSRSRSRSR

"Back you filthy animal!" Jace shoves at the mouse again, looking for more crumbs even though it already took them all. After the shove the mouse sniffs the air, seemingly glares at Jace, then races. The borrower sighs and starts to walk again, happy it managed to only get the crumbs. It'd be impossible to replace any of his other belongings.

He walks two steps to the storm drain and checks the inscription next to it.

"Yes!" he hisses. Jace leaps up and grabs the edge of the storm drain. Two seconds of dangling when he manages to throw himself onto the grating then leap onto the sidewalk. He runs, runs with a wide smile as he slides into the shelter of the wall's overhang.

He had taken a wrong turn, going to a dead end, then another, then took too much time seeing where on Earth he was to allow a mouse to track his food down. But, he made it. The glorious gold plating next to the door shimmers the address. 221 A and 221 B.

As soon as Jace begins to walk out from the cover, a giant shoe slams before him, causing him to tumble back.

"I'm serious Watson. If I don't get an actual case..." the rest of the words are lost as the two men walk away. Jace smiles at the sound of the voice, knowing it's Holmes.

He looks toward the loft again and smiles. And they left in such a rush, the door's open just a crack.

Watching to make sure he won't get stepped on this time, Jace peeks his head from the shadows then darts to where the steps start. He throws himself onto the first step, staying next to the edge, then runs and jumps onto the next, then runs and jumps onto the next. Again, and again, and again.

"Next time, I'm finding a way to go through the walls. Humans are huge," he mumbles, frustrated. He thought doing the right thing would be rewarding, not something to be pain staking and would risk his life two.

Jace finally reaches the top. And even though he fell about ten times, and also had hit his should the wrong way, he smiled widely as he carefully shouldered the door open a bit.

It actually looks like a really nice flat. Great wooden floors, a bunch of doors connecting to different rooms, a nice living room and a full kitchen. The best part though is all the stuff laying _everywhere_. Bits of odds and ends lay here and there. It's like a heaven for borrowers.

As Jace looks around, appreciating he'll be in a place where he can and have a less of a chance to be noticed, footsteps begin to come, louder and louder, until they pound up the stairs. Voices follow, sounding a lot like Holmes' partner, and Jace runs to the closest hiding spot; the fridge.

"Ugh. I didn't even have to look at the crime scene to know it was a suicide. Husband cheating, no money coming in, an orphan as a child. And the kicked over chair right beneath the body was a clear sign of her doing it herself." Two pairs of shoes stalk past the fridge as Jace smiles to himself.

Yep. Partner, same snarky comments, same voice. Jace finally found the person to relive him of all this stupid human-related stress. Now all he needs is a sheet of paper and a pencil.


	4. A Who Or A What

"John, come here." A groan erupts from the doctor's mouth as he walks to where Sherlock seems so fascinated with a spot on the kitchen floor.

"Yes Sherlock? And if you're going to show me another burnt, dissected finger I'm going to throw it across the room," he mutters. Sherlock merely squats onto the floor and picks up a slip of paper.

"Read this out loud," he says simply. Watson lifts up the paper, no bigger then a postage stamp with incredibly small words written delicately onto it.

" _holmes. there will be a murder in front of an abandoned warehouse. stop it_."

"I believe the same person who tried to save Stenson is hoping we'll stop another murder." John looks at Sherlock, seeing a devious smirk on his face. John flips the paper over, but finds no hints of where it may have come from.

"But they must be incredibly shy to keep up with the tiny notes," John mutters. The detective waves him off with a hand, his mind working.

"I believe we can meet this person. They seem very set on getting at least _one_ person saved, since Stenson was left dead and they found a different way to get this person saved. I believe that maybe they had heard about Stenson's murder and, unable to stop it, had managed to also stumble upon another murder. The guilt ate their minds up so they went to the thing they thought this way would be the best. But, why not go to the police? If they know about me, than most surely know there are easier ways to report a possible murder. So, they don't want to be known and we need to find out _why_."

Sherlock then stands up and grabs a pencil. John hands the paper to the open hand, which Sherlock takes and writes on the back. After he finished, the paper is place back in John's hands, who reads it with a ghost of a smile.

"You really want to know why they do this?" John asks. He gets a nod. The paper is set on the floor, the question facing up.

"Of course Watson. This is exciting! A new mystery!" The doctor only smiles as he heads to his room.

"Don't scare them off Holmes. Not everyone appreciates science." Sherlock immediately follows him, ranting on how science is the _most important thing of mankind_!

SRSRSRSRSR

As Jace watches the men look at his note, he sighs at how complicated his situation is.

The police is a no go because of number of reasons:

1\. too many people.

2\. no one would pay attention to a tiny piece of paper, even if it does have the word murder.

3\. the biggest he can write would never in a lifetime be seen at a quick glance.

4\. there are too many steps to the top of the latter. one little piece of a tip would take too long to get looked into and cleared.

Lastly, Sherlock is right. The people at Scotland Yard aren't the brightest of the bunch. They dismiss useful evidence without so much as an arm.

He flinches as Sherlock kneels down again, but this time the paper is placed back in the spot it was found. Confused, Jace waits for the two to leave, then bolt into the open. He looks at the paper, then sprints right back into the shadows under the cabinet.

Staying as low as he can, Jace runs into a small hole in the wood, walking through a tunnel and finally into the walls.

In the half day he's been here in 221 B, Jace found a perfect place to just rest whenever he wasn't looking out for Holmes and John, who's name he finally found out. At the moment it only holds tiny slips of paper, like the one he left as a note, and his supply of newly borrowed food. It was near the fridge, so it resided behind the kitchen cabinets. He actually liked where it was, considering its many escape routes and how close it is to the stove and oven, keeping the cold nights far away.

Jace jogs lightly into the web-less space thankfully not invaded by wooden beams. He sighs as he plops in front of his stock of paper, rubbing his face.

 _What did they killer look like?_ kept appearing in his mind.

Thing was, he couldn't really tell what they looked like. He was too busy being out of sight. Grabbing a sheet, Jace begins to write what he remembered, such as his coat and his job description.

 _sniper. grey coat. lives in terrible conditions and a large white dog. was hired by a business owner, white coat._

Jace looks back at his work and sighs. It has to be enough. If what he saw Holmes do proved anything, it's that he can figure out which warehouse, when, and who will do it. With that, Jace carefully rips the paper and runs back to where the first note lays.

He makes sure no noise is heard, but it's night time, making his mission easy to complete with the two humans going to bed. All too soon he ducks under the cabinet on the tile floor.

Only problem was, the light overhead was on.

"So if I add this chemical, then that would become a mutation that would look like poison berries, yet be of the assistance of a different source." Sherlock mutters softly, moving from a microscope, to his notebook, back to the scope.

Jace gulps, but as he lays on his stomach, sliding the note out into the open to be seen was as easy as pie. With a smirk, he begins to get up when Holmes steps up to the paper.

Not a single muscle moves, not a single breath, as Sherlock bends down to read the note. As Jace breathes quietly, ever so carefully, Sherlock begins to think of how the messenger managed to get a another note out so quickly? It seemed impossible. And, if he was correct, the mystery person did just now, when he say movement out of the corner of his eye.

"Sherlock?" another voice rings. The man in question stands up, a stone face set on his features.

"John, aren't you to be asleep," Holmes states.

"Well yes, but I was promised you'd actually try and get some sleep tonight. None in five days straight is bad for health, even for you," John answers. As they talk, Jace breathes out, so relieved John came in to stop his discovery. He then races back to the hole not wanting anymore close calls, disappearing into the night.

"Fine John, I'll come and sleep." Sherlock then scribbles a question on the paper and slides it to the ground, next to the other paper.

"They already came back?"

"Yes, and while I was here too. I don't know how they're doing this John, but this may be a _what_ more than a _who_."

John looks at Sherlock, thinking of how on Earth someone could possibly get a message into the kitchen, and on _Sherlock's_ watch. But, even if they can't meet this person, Watson will make sure his flat mate will listen to the first note, not forgetting why this came about in the first place.


	5. Discovery

Jace stands under the cabinets, hopefully for the last time. The last question didn't make any sense. Maybe Holmes just wanted to see what he's talking to, what he's up against. Still, asking why Jace didn't go to the police seems a little odd. But, he  
made another note with the answer. Hopefully it'll satisfy him.

So far he's had no chance to be able to slip the note out. Holmes had managed to see the paper move last time, so he has to be exrta careful this time around. But, Holmes has been sitting at the kitchen table, saying how bored he is while John's been  
buying food and making lunch.

"Watson!" Jace jumps, banging his head on the wood above him. Luckily, John also jumped, making plates clatter at the same time.

"Sherlock for heavens sake! I'm right here!" John walks to his flatmate, a little peved at him sitting right here at the table all day. He knows it's because of the note being in the kitchen, but he was so much more annoying this close.

"John! I just figured something out! Whenever you mix." Sherlock doesn't finish.

"Sher-" before John can finish, his friend is up and running toward the notes, dropping a beaker onto the ground.

At this, Jace freezes. What! He was caught! But, but, they were talking and Watson was blocking Holmes' view! Maybe he shouldn't have walked out into the open to put the paper down, but it wouldn't slide the way he wanted, meaning more time for the two  
to see there was an answer, and less time to save someone's life. But, now, now he's caught!

Jace paces. He, he's dead. His chance at life is over, gone. _Humans_ have captured him. He won't live. He can't. Just like last time.

"John, I believe I found our messenger," a voice booms from above. No, not A voice, Holmes' voice. The voice that belongs to a man who dissects fingers, eyes, and who knows what else. The voice that is so stiff, cold, hard with no emotion.

"What do you mean?" Watson asks. The ground shakes as he walks over, and Jace stares up at the two through the glass, fear written all over his expression. Watson's eyes get real big and Jace slowly slides to a sitting position.

"I ask you to bring it onto the table. Your the doctor, so I know you'll be better at handling the situation of traumatizing matters." John only nods as he grabs a sheet of clean paper.

"Pardon me. Just step onto the paper when it reaches you," he whispers. Jace raises an eyebrow when the paper is slipped between the glass and the floor. Jace jumps up and quickly gets on the paper as it slides even more under the beaker. He carefully  
walks on the paper to keep from running into the glass. It stops, and Jace yelps as he falls onto the paper, gravity suddenly pushing him down.

"Sorry," Watson's voice mutters, but Jace isn't paying attention.

He's, he's above the ground! With no hook to save him! And only a piece of paper to hold his weight! He curls into a ball in the center of the glass, hoping his weight will even out of odds of the paper dipping and sending him to his death. Too high,  
too high, too high. He's never been this high! Never to the top cabinets!

But he didn't have to worry. The paper is gently set down onto a wooden surface, says the weird texture he sits upon. He doesn't curl out of his shell though, too afraid of how soon Holmes will dissect him.

"What are you?" Holmes interrupts. Jace falls back, the booming voice too close for his ears. His eyes widen when he sees Holmes so close to the glass.

"Sherlock! He's tiny and we just caught him! Give the kid a break," Watson berates.

"John, we don't even know if it can talk." That gets Jace to burst out of his shell.

"I'm _not_ an it! I'm a boy, a _man_ considering what I've had to go through. And yes I can talk! I look just like you! Why _wouldn't_ I talk!" he yells. Silence greets him and Jace pails. He just yelled at two giants.

"I knew it! Fascinating! You're just like us! Yet, you have the height of about _three inches_! No wonder you got the message back without me knowing!" Holmes rants some more, going on about a scientific breakthrough and everything about impossibleness  
finally being able to change to possible. Even though Holmes' excitement is contagious, Jace sinks to his kneels, knowing _he's_ the center of it all.

"Sherlock, the kids scared," Watson says. His flat mate finally looks at the beaker again, sighing that his discovery is indeed a person. And is just like humans. SO dull.

"Not my fault your all the same," he murmurs. John rolls his eyes at how such a child Sherlock can be, but looks back down at the tiny boy as the beaker is taken away.

Jace leaps back when he feels fresh air flood toward him. His eyes flash open, but where there was a destortment of the glass, now he could see the two perfectly. With _no_ barrier!

"Don't try to run. I know your scared but even with any tools you process in that bag will be no use against giants so to speak. Before we begin though, why did you send us the note?" Holmes questions. Jace freezes. Before,he had no problem shouting  
at the two, Holmes especially, but now all his anger was gone. But, he c _an't_ run, as been pointed out belatedly, so might as well.

"I heard of another murder going to happen. You're the only two who had really seen the note for Stenson, so I came to you so you could stop it." Jace crosses his arms, hoping for a purposeful air around him. They may have size, but he's been through  
worse. Well, sort of.

"Hmm," was the answer.

"Sherlock," Watson growls. He then faces Jace, eye soft with empathy. "Excuse my friend. What's your name?"

"Jace. J-A-C-E."

"Nice to meet you Jace." Without thinking, John extends a hand out to Jace. He freezes, realizing the boy stiffened when he drew near. But he got a nod as his hand with drew, accompanied by a smile.

Suddenly a giant beaker is placed back on top of him, allowing Jace to sink a little in relief. John spins to Sherlock but he's beat to speaking.

"I don't want him to leave. And, as he has stated, there will be a murder happening either tonight or soon. I do believe the location is the warehouse that's trying to be sold, which also has a tall building next to it, a perfect place to have someone  
shoot a sniper with great precision. Now, we must leave." He spins toward the tiny man, Jace, and offers a thin smile. "We will be right back." And with that he's out the door in seconds.

"I'm sorry for his bluntness." Watson then grabs a piece of his sandwich and places it under the beaker. "Be right back." And like Holmes, he runs out of the flat, leaving Jace to panic on his own.

SRSRSRSRSR

Jace paces back and forth. Back and forth. As much as the beaker lets him anyway.

How is he to get out of this! It's been twenty minutes and he _still_ hasn't been able to lift the beaker up a crack. The sandwich piece did no good for a lever when he couldn't even lift it. And sliding it proved impossible because of, one, his  
lack of strength, and two, the rough surface he's on. He finally slumps down, exhausted and weak from his attempts.

That's when the door flies open.

"Easy as the last murder. Too simple to figure out," Holmes announces. Watson also follows, hanging up his coat as the detective plops down into a kitchen chair. The beaker is whisked away, putting a scowl of Jace's face, but all in all he just stands  
with his arms crossed again.

"So. Where were we. How about what you are?" Jace only shakes his head, a small bit of anger sparking.

"Is Jay saved?" he asks. Holmes blinks, stunned for only a second, but a smirk comes to cover his blunder.

"Yes, he is safe. The sniper and the business owner are off to jail. It took time for the evidence to be found but we did it." Jace nods, finally happy. He lets out a strong sigh as Watson sits next to his partner.

"To answer your question, I call myself a borrower."

"What?" He smirks, loving how he caught the great detective off guard.

"A borrower. I got shrunk out of an experiment gone aria. To keep people from thinking I was a thief in their house if I was ever caught, I named myself a borrower." Not all true but not all a lie. He doesn't know if these two will go looking for others  
like him if they knew.

"Smart move. And you picked it because you 'borrow' food and supplies from wherever your staying, weather a house or a factory. You only do it at night because most humans are asleep by then, leaving shadows for you and no chance of being seen. You live  
in the walls behind the cabinets, probably getting to and from by a little hole. And you've been smart enough to only take bits of paper and nothing else, but I still noticed." The smirk on Holmes' face only gets bigger as Jace's strong façade is  
dropped completely. Even Watson had wide eyes.

"C-c-correct," is all Jace can say.

"Brilliant!" Holmes smiles wider than Jace thought possible, but his attention is moved toward Watson as he cleared his throat.

"Have you been living here?" he asks. Holmes scowls him but Watson ignores it.

"Er, no. I've only been here for one night. I only came here for the murder to be, but I was going to leave as soon as it was resolved." Jace hopes they get the message that he wasn't going to stay, and that they should let him go, but tried to make it  
subtle. Neither got the message though.

"How many different places have you been to?"

"I'll say more than a hundred? Yeah that sounds about right."

"Did you ever try to contract your family?"

"Nope. Too small, think I'm a bug."

"Has anyone ever seen you before?"

"Not that I know of."

"How tall are you?" The question catches him off guard. Then again, Holmes asked it.

"I'm three inches," Jace answers.

"Can I measure you? Just to be exact. I do believe it'd be hard for you to actually measure yourself." Holmes nods and leaves before Jace can say anything. He then comes back, placing a foot long ruler beside him. Jace immediately runs in front of it,  
standing as tall as he can, not wanting them to get mad at him.

John watches, fascinated himself by how small this person was. Jace seemed honorable, calm at a glance, but he did know the dangers of being so small. Carefully gathering supplies for who knows how long, and corropporating without them having to say anything.  
His hand rests on his chin, secretly hoping Sherlock is nice to the kid.

"You're actually 2.8 inches to be exact," the detective announces. Jace slumps a little, his hope that he at least grew to three dashed. But he's not fully grown yet.

"Thank you for clearing it up," Jace responds, a little snarkyness bleeding through.

"I must ask. How old are you?"

"I'm 15 years old, turning 16 soon." Holmes nods when he claps his hands together.

"What do you think John? Can we survive with another flat mate?"

"I think we can. Plenty of space, though he'd have to be careful." The last part was directed at Sherlock, but the man only waves it off.

"So Jace. Would you like to live with us? I would love to use your attention to detail to help with any cases I get. And Watson just loves to talk about dull things in life, even though I have no heart for it." Holmes keeps going on about the benefits  
of someone that small living with them. Jace just stands there, mouth wide open, ears pounding.

"WAIT!" Silence. "Your, your, _really_ asking me, ME, to _live_ with you?" Jace bursts. It was crazy! Why would a human, TWO humans, want him to live with them! He can't work! He can't even make breakfast! Yeah, he could talk and help on cases,  
but that was it!

"Of course. It'd be nice to get a breather from this dope," Watson answers.

"You'd be a great ally. A spy even at times. And you can get us out of trouble if we need it. Your smart and clever," Holmes adds.

Jace just stands before them, still not believing a single word. They would give him food, help, and he wouldn't have to hide in the walls anymore. He wouldn't be alone anymore. Jace could finally be, safe.

He looks up at the two again, but no one shouts _just kidding!_ or tries to grab him. Only hopeful eyes from Watson, and a stone expression from Sherlock.

"I. I would love to live with you."


	6. New Scenes

Sherlock claps his hands, causing Jace to jump but stand his ground.

"Brilliant! You can go where ever you want to, but stay out of my way. I work hard on cases, not babysitting. Also, if you need anything just ask." Jace nods up and down in understanding, a smirk lighting his face up.

"We'll be careful. Sherlock just hates having to slow down in his pacing. His mind is where he's supposed to be, not in the real world looking where he steps," Watson smiles. While he talked, Sherlock went into the living room, only to come back with different peice of equipment. Jace leaps back, not knowing what any of it's for.

"Would you mind if I ran a few test?" Jace is asked. He freezes, caught in thinking maybe Holmes might have drew him into a sense of false security. He galnces at Watson, but, getting a nod in return, Jace walks over to where Holmes is indicating.

"No funny bussiness Holmes," he snaps.

"Don't be an idiot Jace. Just stand up here," Holmes mutters, pointing to a round plate, a little high off the ground. Jace runs at it and leaps up, catching the edge. Suddenly, it dips down, jostling him. Jace just shakes his head and pulls himself up. Turning to Holmes, he crosses his arms.

"What is this?"

"A balance scale. I messure your weight." Jace is then flung a little to the right as Holmes moves a block acorss a bar, away from Jace. He sit down as Holmes moves other things all the while causing Jace to move back and forth from the motion.

"Give him a warning next time," Watson mutters.

"Alright alright." Holmes writes down a few numbers in his notebook then smiles at Jace. "You may get down." Jace complies and the balance is whisked away. Another set of equipment is immediatly replaced though.

Jace steps back. The whole thing must have been taller than him times four. It had a plate on its base and a tunnel like thing leading up. Holmes places his eye into the tube as he fiddles with a knob attached to the tube.

"It's a microscope," he hears Watson mutter. Jace nods a thanks when Holmes looks down at him.

"If you please, step onto the base and hold your arm under the light," he says. A single ray of light is flicked on as Jace slowly walks over.

"What does it do?" He glances at the two as they exchange looks, but he shakes it off.

"It allows people to see small things better. Like cells," Waton explains. Jace nods his head, though he has no idea what cells are, and climbs onto the microscope's base. Placing his arm under the light, Holmes places his face in the tube again and fiddles with the knob. A couple thimes Jace stiffens as the tube gets close to touching his arm, but Holmes is careful for the most part.

Holmes then waves him off as Jace scrambles onto the table, all the while writing things and muttering to himself.

"Well, he has the exact same structure as humans, which proves he was shrunk. But, the pattern is tighter than a human's. I don't actually believe you were shrunk Jace." The boy stiffens again and a nervous smile breaks out.

"Okay, yeah I wasn't, but I _am_ the only one of my kind." Jace prays that's enough for the detective. Holmes narrows his eyes but doesn't say anything.

"You're free to go now. I'll do more tests later," Holmes mutters. John rolls his eyes at his flatmate again. The boy's freaked out enough, but he doesn't say anything.

"Thank you," Jace breathes, relieved. He then races to the edge of the table, hooking the paperclip to a crevous in the wood. As soon as it's secure, Jace leaps from the table and grabs the fishingline, slowly slidding down. He tries not to look down, the table being the hightest he's _ever_ gone, but it's hard to judge when the ground was close enough to jump. After passing the chair's height, he looks down, glad to be back at a confortable height. He _could_ have asked one of them to help him down. But he'd rather die than ever give up completely and willingly to a human.

His shoes thump against the floor. He flicks his wrist and catches the falling hook with practiced skill. He turns around toward the living room, a joyful smile on his face, when he sees Holmes and Watson stand up.

They tower over him. He's been near a lot of humans, yes, but before he's always been in hiding, always near a hole in the wall to escape. Never right next to their pounding shoes! Jace just stands still, scared for his life. Scared for his safety. Scared for how his family would've seen him living with _humans_.

"You okay Jace?" Watson asks. The borrower leaps back but hastily nods his head.

"I'm fine!" he yells. And to prove it, he begins to jog toward the fireplace, heart pounding in his chest to turn around and leave the flat forever. But he keeps going, past Holmes who's laying on the couch thinking, and Watson who's watching him while reading a book. Jace ignores it all, focused on getting used to the fact that _open air_ is his new home.

He skids to a stop in front of the fireplace. Looking up, he spots a human skull on top of the mantel. Again, the tiny voice that he'll be living with a crazy detective and a subtle doctor fires alarms in his head.

What on Earth has he gotten himself into?

SRSRSRSRSR

"Watson," Sherlock groans. John stands up and walks toward the phone lying on the counter. He carefully steps over Jace as he nears the counter, the tiny 2.8 inch boy exploring the flat. Jace smiles in return for the gesture and keeps running toward the door. John picks up the phone and checks for messages.

"Lastrade has a case." Immeditaly Sherlock is peering over his shoulder. Finally a case! He wanted to poke and prod at Jace more to keep his bordom down, but he knew John would have none of that.

"Where?" he asks as he grabs the phone. He types as he walks toward the door, avoiding the tiny person running next to his feet. Sherlock smiles at how careful he's being, but forgets all about it as Lastrade texts back.

"What's going on?" Jace calls to John. The doctor kneels down beside the yelling figure, a smile on his face.

"Sherlock solves Scotland Yard's cases whenever they've found a dead body. Lastrade, the head of Scotlnd Yard, is the one who tells us what's going on, where, and what they believe."  
"And every time they try they always get it wrong," Sherlock calls.

"It's interesting and brilliant seeing him at work, especially on a case. But sometimes he can't figure out who did it untill days afterwords," Watson continues.

"And those are the best," Holmes adds, stopping beside his partner. "Now, would you like to come with us Jace?"

Jace shakes his head fast. No, no, no. Too many humans. Also, he knows he'll have to be picked up and that will NOT happen. Watson looks down at him sadly seeing his reaction, but Holmes is as stone as ever.

"Don't be an idiot. Come on, it'll be exciting!" Holmes then bends down and grabs Jace by his shirt. Jace yells, cursing at the detective as he's slipped into his pocket.

"Holmes! I'm not being an idiot! _YOU_ are!" Jace pounds onto the arm hanging next to the pocket.

"Sherlock, he's just a kid," John begins.

"And he should know he _is_ being an idiot by not taking the chance to finally see the world!" Before John can object, he swings the door open and walks onto the sidewalk. John races after him, getting next to him as a taxi pulls up.

"I'm sorry Jace. But we won't let anything happen to you," he promises. Jace doesn't say a word.

"Idiot!" he yells one last time before Sherlock moves again, sitting on something. The purr of an engine tells Jace he's in a car. Immediatly he curls into a ball, not wanting to be seen or heard. He'll make Holmes pay for this.

Sherlock only hums a song he heard Donavin singing. As much as he hates her, she does have a good sense of music. Jace growls at Holmes, still incredibly mad. But, the man hadn't grabbed him in his hand, per say, so he can't be angry for that. But he _is_ mad at Holmes merily picking him up against his will!

Suddenly, the group jerks forward and Sherlock is on the move again. Jace lays in the pocket, listening to different sounds. So, maybe Holmes _did_ have a point. He's curious about what goes on in the human world and in a crime scene. He's only been able to travel on hidden sidewalks, sewer tunnels, and walls. It'll be interesting and he'll be safe in the pocket.

With those thoughts, Jace stands on his toes and climbs up untill his head is peaking up. He sees Watson walking beside Holmes, his head forward as he talks about the crime Lastrade needed them to check out. Jace looks where their walking, noticing he's in Holmes' front coat pocket, meaning he can see things chest height. That's when he sees the body.

He sucks in a breath. A girl, probably the age of 20, lays face down on the floor. Her hair was cut off, as if her hair was in the way. A giant gash slices all the way around her neck, dried blood everywhere. A kitchen knife is held in her left hand, a note in her right one. It's been taken out by the police, but it was placed back in its spot for the detectives. All alround the room everything seemed to be in its rightful place, but a vase holds newly perchased flowers.

Wait. Jace squints at the flowers, seeing a bit of, paper?

"Oh thank you Sherock. My team thinks it was a suicide since only her fingerprints are on the knife." A man walks over, strong and firm, but he seems to hold a soft spot toward Holmes.

"Wrong," Jace and Sherlock mutter. Sherlock continues. "If this girl did kill herself, why cut all her hair off first? And leave it by her feet? Also, the circle around her neck is too perfect for her to do it herself. She'd either have to do it with one hand and switch halfway, or she'd have someone else do it. And, if she did switch hands, the circle wouldn't be perfect. And if she had someone do it for her, they would have done it better, a nice death, and left a note of their own saying how sorry they were for doing it." Jace nods in agreement. All he said was true, and Watson was right, Holmes _is_ brilliant when you see him at work in action.

Holmes then starts moving, looking around the room and Jace ducks a little. Just enough to stay out of sight, but out enough to see.

"But I have no idea who did it. They were smart to use gloves and her own hand to draw the blood first. Was she entitled to money from her parents?"

"No. She seemed to totally cut herself from her parents. Her dress proves it," Watson answers.

Jace smirks, thinking he may know. As Sherlock turns toward the counter, Jace gets ready. As he starts walking by, Jace leaps out of the pocket, rolling behind the vase of flowers. As soon as he lands, he regretts his desision.

"I'm out in the opem," Jace groans. He was so caught up in seeing something none of the others had. And now he's stuck. Trapped. Ready for the world to see.

He suddenly shakes his head. He looks to see Holmes and Watson looking at the girl's profile. No one else looks his direction, so Jace leaps up to the rose's leaf and pulls himself up. Careful not to fall in the water, he grabs the flower's stems to steady himself as he reaches toward a card stuck in the flowers. He pulls it toward himself, glancing at Holmes. As he looks this way, Jace shakes the flowers next to him. Holmes then immediatly comes over, knowing it wasn't a bit of wind moving it.

"Maybe this was delivered?" Sherlock suggests as he walks over. The roses had moved, and he can't feel a bit of weight inside his pocket anymore. Sure enough, a tiny head peeks out of the flowers as he walks closer. Sherlock opens his mouth to scold Jace but stops, realizing he's holding folded peice of paper. Carefully taking the note, Sherlock then takes Jace by the collor once more to transfer him into his pocket.

"Maybe a jealous lover," he says out loud. Sherlock smirks at how Jace actually beat him at deduction of the room.

"A note?" John questions. Sherlock opens it for them to see, reading it out loud.

 _"Please come back. Forget the boyfriend. I love YOU."_

"She did have many lovers, hoping from one to the other," Lastrade provides. Jace smirks at this, sinking to the bottom of the pocket. Beat that master of detectives.

"So it was a boyfriend."

"Precisly. An ex-boyfriend too. Ask around. If anything seems wrong, out of place, they just lost their job, send them to the station for questioning. Dull, lets head home John," Sherlock announces. He walks away from the scene, leaving John to send an apology for him. He catches a cab as John slides in with him.

"How'd you find the note?" Sherlock looks at John, a knowing smirk on his face. John looks at the detective's pocket and smiles.

"Seem you have competition," John smiles. Sherlock glares at him.

"Only saw it because of size."


	7. Names

"Sherlock, stop acting like a child." John glares at his flatmate who is stubbornly sitting in his favorite spot. Jace happily stands on the arm rest, glad to be out of the pocket, but John knows why he's really smiling.

" _He's_ the problem. Stealing my thunder," Sherlock mutters back. Jace only grins wider. Oh no, now John has to live with TWO Sherlocks.

"I only did it because you picked me up!" Jace retorts.

"I simply grabbed your shirt. Picking you up would be your entire body."

"Well I call my shirt being grabbed with me still in it being picked up!"

"I'll show you what 'picked up' is." Holmes leaps at Jace but misses, the borrower already knowing it'd happen and leapt to the table. Watson laughs as Holmes then begins to stand up, a little mad for being stood up twice.

"Sherlock! Leave him alone. He only helped you, you should be grateful. And, Lestrade only knows that _you_ discovered the note," John points out. Sherlock huffs, stomping to his couch.

"But we know." He flops onto his back, thinking back to the scene. At least Sherlock now knows to look at tiny bits of things out of place. Jace rolls his eyes as John ignores the problem and reads his book again. As he sits on the table, Jace watches as Holmes falls asleep.

"Wow," he whistles. Grabbing his hook, he quickly slides down to the floor. Winding the rope up, he begins to calmly walk toward the kitchen. Night was drawing near, so he has to go to sleep in order to be wide awake for more excitement.

As Jace walks, he looks down and thinks about his sisters and parents. He left America a long time ago, when he was eight. They were in New York, having been near the harbor. Jace kept on wanting to leave the house, go to a new one, but his parents would yell for being so carefree. Finally, after three years of the yelling, Jace decided to leave. And he kept leaving, going from house to house. Soon he went across the sea to London. But, he kept hopping constantly.

Now, he has a "home", and maybe he'll actually stay for a little bit. If the two let him.

"Jace, do be careful." Holmes walks by, causing Jace to fall back from the termers as he says it.

"You wouldn't be saying that if you were this small!" Jace yells, a little surprised seeing Sherlock awake so quickly. This causes Holmes to stop. Jace pails, thinking he finally got him mad enough to erupt.

"You're right. I might not be saying that. Hmm," is all Sherlock says back, and then he walks away. Jace tilts his head, hoping with all his might Holmes isn't going to do something stupid. Watson then walks in, and seeing Jace he kneels down.

"If you want to go to sleep you're more than welcome to sleep where ever you like. I'm turning in. Good night." He stands up, giving Sherlock a nod as he walks away.

"I need to give you a last name." Jace raises an eyebrow as Holmes speaks.

"What for?"  
"For when I get angry and upset." Sherlock smirks as Jace begins to walk toward the table.

"How about Holmes?" John calls.

"No. Only one Holmes in this world. I was thinking something like Drywood." Jace scoffs at this. Holmes only waves him off. "My first attempt at being creative."

"No kidding," Jace snorts.

He sighs, having thought of this himself. His name was Bell, when he lived with his family, but he feels like he'll betray them if he picked that name. Well, he has always kind have favored the name Stenson. And it'd be ironic and nice.

"Stenson." Holmes looks at Jace, a smile displayed.

"Jace Stenson. A little cliché in my opinion, but it suits you. Alright Stenson, lets make Watson angry by not going to sleep for a few more hours," Sherlock laughs. Jace smiles at this and shakes his head.

"You have a good night Holmes," he calls. The man stands up to look at an experiment as Jace lays his head on his bag. In seconds he's asleep, though he keeps jolting awake as Sherlock moves around the kitchen.


	8. Unsloved

In all honesty, Jace thought he would keep the fact he's never been held in any human's hand before. Ever. But, living with Holmes and Watson, though Watson just wants to help, he should have realized the fact won't be true anymore no matter how hard he tries.

This only came to mind though when Holmes asked to examine him from head to toe. And to be examined, Jace would have to be held.

"No."

"But it's for science!" Jace doesn't even blink.

"No." Sherlock groans at his stubborn new flat mate.

"John!" Sherlock only gets laughter from John as he walks over.

"You can't force him Sherlock. Never gonna happen. Give him time. It must be so weird being picked up by your shirt, but actually be an a hand? That takes trust." Jace nods at every word, agreeing fully. Holmes groans again but waves his hand.

"Fine! I'll examine you later Stenson." Jace smiles widely and leaps off the table, grabbing his rope that was already set just in case Holmes did try to grab him again. He slides down and walks over to where Watson sits back down. He then swings the hook onto the table and climbs up. Hopping over to the chair Watson sits, Jace sits down beside him.

"Yes?" John asks. He glances at the borrower sitting beside him, happy he's come to sit with him.

"Watson, were you always a doctor?" Jace looks up hopefully. He truly didn't know anything about his new flat mates and maybe they wouldn't mind talking about themselves.

"No actually. I was a soldier, stationed to fight a war in Afghanistan. A bullet shot my shoulder so I was forced to resign after health complications. Looking for cheap place to stay, I met Sherlock. We talked a little, mostly him going on about a case, and needing someone to pay for half the rent we became flat mates. I still enjoy listening to Sherlock work. But no, I was once a soldier. I now work in the hospital some days of the week. After all the years of killing others, I decided becoming a doctor would help balance everything out." Jace nods at his words, loving it all.

"You don't find Holmes annoying?"

"Heavens yes. But he really is a kind bloke once you get to know him."

"No I'm not," Holmes calls from the kitchen. Jace laughs and shakes his head.

"What do you do when you're not working?" he asks. John shrugs at this.

"A number of things really. Walks, talking with civilized people." This erupts a snort out of Sherlock. "I date a few people now and then. Sherlock scares them off though."

"And I'm very proud of that," is the retort.

"Lestrade needs us," Sherlock suddenly announces.

"What's it about?"

"He thinks it's about the killer who had also killed the girl, Mary. They weren't able to find and question one of the boyfriends so they think that maybe he had done something to this person. Same circle of the neck, no fingerprints." Sherlock looks up at John, a wide smile on his face. "The games a foot!"

SRSRSRSRSR

Sherlock and Watson walk down the sidewalk, following the sound of sirens to reach the location of the crime scene.

Jace is once again in Sherlock's pocket, though he's staying low from now on. Waking up to yelling, having to defend himself, and story telling took too much out of him. He lays back, enjoying the moment of being safe and comfortable at the same time. It's nice, since he's never been able to have both before.

In seconds, Jace is passed out.

"What could the motive be?" John questions.

"I honestly think it may be a revenge story. Lestrade said the victim was a man, but he also was a business owner. If Mary was an ex-girlfriend he was dumped by, then this one might be someone who fired him from his only good job," Sherlock mutters. The two round the corner and climb up the stairs to an expensive looking flat. Lestrade immediately greets them showing them to the living room.

Once again, a knife lays inside the 30 year old man's hand, a clean circle all the way around his throat. Sherlock bends down, moving the body after putting gloves on.

"They made sure that the cut was deep enough to kill, but not enough to decapitate," he mutters. John bends down next to him, feeling the man's neck.

"Warm. So he was killed only hours ago."

"When was he found?"

"Just an hour ago. Neighbor called when she saw a young man who had came over here before come back after leaving two hours earlier," Lestrade answers. Sherlock snorts.

"Why'd he come back? Where's the neighbor?" Lestrade leads Sherlock outside, toward the blue house to the right of the scene.

"You could talk to her. We already have so you should be fine." John nods a thank you as Sherlock skips right up to the house. The door was open so he walks in as John knocks politely to let the woman know someone was here.

"Come in come in!" a voice calls. They walk into the kitchen and see a 40 year old woman sitting at a round table, tea cup in hand.

"Sherlock Holmes. And John Watson. We're here to ask a few questions about the man you saw walking out."

"Why of course! Sit down," she says. The two sit and she smiles, welcoming all questions.

"Did you see what the man looked like?" John asked.

"Yes. Tall, about 20 years old, short black hair, and he wore a tan fedora."

"And did you see anything he was carrying with him?" Sherlock questions.

"Oh yes. He was holding a camera, the strap around his neck. Like a real camera too, one that takes good pictures." The two listen intently. John looks over at Sherlock as he thinks over what they heard.

"Was anyone with him? Or did he have a car?"

"Oh no. Young man just walked away. I then knocked on Mr. Kim's door but no one answered. Having no keys I called the police and found out he was killed." She looks down, her eyes distant.

"Ma'am. There wasn't anything you could have done. The man would have killed you too if you had known," John whispers. Sherlock just keeps thinking as John comforts her.

"Thank you. Would you like to stay for tea?"

"Thank you so much but we must leave. Come on John." Sherlock then walks out of the house, heading home.

"So now we know what he looks like," John begins.

"But why would be take a picture of his kill? It could either be for some sort of scrapbook, or to prove to others he's better than everyone else, or to prove to someone who may hire him or who has hired him." Sherlock keeps walking, not liking how this is turning out to be at all. And the man seems hard to track, not having any car or a name to put to the face. He'll ask Lestrade later if he knows a name. But how to follow him?

Jace jerks awake as Holmes comes to a sudden stop.

"What is going on? Wait, your finished with the murder already?" he asks, peeking his head out. Jace pails when he sees the look on Holmes' face, the look sending shivers down his back.

"I know how we'll find him. _And_ how to know why he's doing it."


	9. Needed

John and Sherlock were in Sherlock's room yelling at each other. Jace was left on the kitchen table, not fully understanding what was going on. He heard snippets, such as 'He'll be fine' and 'He's THREE INCHES TALL'. Jace shakes his head. From what Holmes had said Jace has a bad feeling he wants to use the borrower as some sort of spy. Not that Jace doesn't want to help, it's just that Watson's right. He's only 2.8 inches tall.

The door suddenly is knocked on and Jace freezes. Seeing how Watson left his book on the table, Jace quickly ducks behind the spine. When the two don't walk over to open the door, the person simply opens it. Jace freezes as they walk in, not wanting to be found. This is bad. So so bad.

"Sherlock," a calm voice says. The two stop talking immediately. Jace slowly relaxes a little as the two walk out. Holmes scowls the person, and judging by the voice, a man had entered.

"Mycroft," Sherlock mutters. He walks over to a chair and plops down, very unprofessional.

"Nice to see you too. I heard about your latest case not working out fairly well for you. And for your plan, I'm here to help," the man, Mycroft, says. No one says anything and Jace slowly lifts his head up. A tall man, older than Holmes, stands in the room. An umbrella hangs on his arm. Suddenly the man starts to turn around and Jace ducks back down.

"It's alright Jace, you can come out. I won't hurt you." Jace's lungs freeze. No matter how hard he tries though the air won't reach him. How, how did he know!

"Mycroft, who are you talking to?" John questions.

"Dear John. I know you're trying to help, but I saw it climbing up your stairs and into the flat. And in all your conversations I've heard another voice," Mycroft explains. Jace finally breathes and huffs. He's _not_ an it. And no way is he coming out.

"Mycroft, why are you here? Stop harassing my flat mate. It's low even for you," Sherlock huffs.

"I want to give you a tracker to put on it so you can follow the murder to their home. It can listen to the conversations and you'll solve the case. Simple." Mycroft watches as the two stare at him. He hears a soft noise by the table and calmly looks over. The tiny man stands on top of the book, its shoulders square and head high.

"I'm _not_ an it. My name is Jace, Jace Stenson. And I will _happily_ wear the tracker and follow this killer," Jace snaps. Mycroft smiles widely, glad the boy took the bait. He walks to the table, sitting in a chair.

"You really are something. Surprised you came to my brother instead of anyone else though. Lot more people out in the world," he breathes. Jace stumbles back as he says those words, not liking this Mycroft character at all.

"Jace, you can't just go with a _killer_ ," John interrupts. He stands next to Mycroft, keeping an eye on the man staring at Jace.

"But if I don't then he'll get away, kill more people, the whole nine yards," he cries.

"Why don't you follow him with your cameras?" Sherlock asks.

"Can't. He goes into an area where my camera can't reach. Problem is if we send the police, he won't talk to those who investigate him I'll guarantee that," Mycroft answers. Holmes begins to pace, in front of the kitchen table. He walks over to Mycroft and holds a hand out.

"Tracker." A small piece of metal is dropped into his palm. Sherlock looks at it, the device no bigger than a pea. He then stands beside Jace. "Come here."

Jace stiffens at those words, not sure exactly how Holmes will put the device on him. He looks at the detective, but as Sherlock's eyes soften just a tad, Jace walks forward to the edge of the table. Holmes crouches down as he unhooks the device's needle.

"Now hold still," he whispers. Jace flinches as huge fingers bigger than him come before him. Jace freezes, stiff as a board as Holmes gently grabs his shirt. Sherlock pins the device on without actually touching Jace once. He sits back, a smile displayed as Jace looks at the thing on his shirt. It seems like a flower he's seen men wear on a suit for a dance.

"Thank you," Jace breathes.

"Now we can plant him where ever the killer will be next and have him follow undetected," Mycroft interrupts.

"Thank you very much for the help. Now, we must make sure our affairs are in order, so you'll have to leave." As Sherlock speaks, John opens the door wide. Mycroft shakes his head at Holmes and stands up. He bows his head toward Jace, still marveling about the fact he's so small.

"Have a good day Stenson, Watson. I'll see you all soon." And with that, he leaves. Sherlock rubs his face, angry for his brother to just drop in like that. And, plant a camera to watch his flat _and_ bug his flat!

"Watson, we need to find that bug," Sherlock declares, beginning to look everywhere on the walls. John sighs but gets to work.

"So he's your brother?" Jace calls. Holmes hesitates, making Jace smile widely.

"Yes, but I prefer to call him my enemy. So much more suitable," he replies.

"And he knew about me," Jace mutters. He paces the table, going back and forth.

Were there more humans who knew abut him? Jace made sure to climb up the stairs in the shadows but obviously Mycroft apparently saw him. And knew his name but Watson and Holmes were taking care of that problem now.

"How long do you think he's listened to us?" John asks aloud. Sherlock snorts, thinking.

"Probably since the last time he's visited. So, about for two months."

"Sorry to say it Sherlock, but sometimes I really do hate him."

"I take no ill feelings toward that statement," Holmes mutters. Jace smiles then looks at the wood of the table.

He'll have to be a spy for these two. That parts fine, but the part he'll be traveling with a killer is what sends Jace to be less confident.


	10. Perparing

"I got it!" Sherlock yells, bouncing with joy. He runs to the kitchen, showing a small, thin device no bigger than the tracker they got.

"Beat that Mycroft," he cries and smashes it with his fingers. Jace shivers distantly, afraid that Holmes can do the same thing to him if he wanted to. John then walks in, a frown upon his face.

"Are you sure that's the only one?" he asks.

"No. But I'm happy for now. If you see any more, tell me. I shall be the one to smash them all." And with that Sherlock leaves to his room.

"So, you're going to go catch a killer?" John asks Jace. The boy nods, his shoulders slumped.

"Only one who can."

"Not true. We could send Sherlock into the mission, or Lestrade, or me. You don't have to," John says. He watches Jace think it through. He really doesn't want the boy to do this, certainly not alone. He's never had to track down a killer, never had to spend time with one. And the worse part is if the killer finds Jace, no one could help him.

"No. I'm going to do it Watson. Thank you for caring about my well being, but I did say I would do it." He nods his head at this statement. He may be terrified, but Jace would rather be caught by unfriendly humans than back out on a promise.

"Leave him be John. He has a mind of his own," Holmes says as he walks in, putting his coat on.

"We have to go talk to Lestrade. Find out the killer's name, who his friends are, so forth." The detective walks over to the table, kneeling down before Jace. "I want Lestrade to know about you, so if he has enough evidence to arrest the man, he'll know to be careful for you. What do you say?"

Jace stares at Holmes, who is actually asking if a human would be allowed to see him. Jace glances at Watson, wanting to know what he thinks of the matter. The doctor thinks it over, knowing the man well enough, and nods in agreement. Jace sighs then nods.

"Fine! But only _one_ human. No one else, just Lestrade," Jace demands. The two nod as Sherlock stands up.

"Come alone Stenson." Sherlock reaches toward Jace but misses as the borrower ducks away.

"I'm going with Watson," he says simply, walking over to the doctor. "Would you mind?

"Of course not," John smiles. He carefully pinches the back of Jace's shirt and lowers him into his front pocket. Sherlock growls, not liking how John was chosen over him.

"Why?" he moans.

"Because I asked," Jace calls. Sherlock huffs at that then walks out.

"Sherlock, he's been in your pocket every time. And he's a kid, they love to move around," John tells his flat mate.

"But I'm a better transportation." He hails a cab and climbs in before John.

"Why is that?"

"No one goes anywhere near me and I know how to avoid being ran into." Jace smothers a laugh as he listens, fascinated as to why Holmes was pouting Jace went with Watson this time.

"I'll make him like me more," Sherlock claims as he climbs back out of the cab. John sighs, not understanding why Sherlock doesn't just like the fact _two_ people tolerate him enough to stay with him 24 hours. Well, sometimes Sherlock disappears without him.

"Come on," Sherlock calls. John walks over, mindful of Jace in his pocket. One thing he will admit, it's interesting to have a 3 inch tall person hiding in your pocket. It feels, nice yet weird at the same time, knowing someone relies on you so much.

"Hello. Is Lestrade in?" John asks a passing police officer.

Jace listens to everything going on. People running around, boots stomping, distant shouts. Watson starts and stops randomly, but it is a bit more smoother than Holmes. But, even though he was trying to keep his mind busy, Jace can't shake the feeling that he was making a mistake to be seen by yet _another_ human. From what he's heard, Lestrade isn't the worse. Maybe even better than Mycroft. They just have no idea how he'll react. Jace breathes in deeply. He's got Holmes' reflexes and Watson's caring heart to help him.

"Sherlock? John?" a voice asks. John walks in with Sherlock, shutting the door to Lestrade's office. He looks around and nods at how closed off it is.

"Good afternoon detective. We have a favor."

"A favor? One that will get me in trouble like last time." Sherlock flinches openly at that, knowing what he's talking about.

"It won't be that bad," John interrupts. "We need information on the man saw coming out of the crime scene." Lestrade sits at the computer, typing in what seemed like random things.

"His name was Myles Miller. He was a worker for Mr. Kim until fired about half a year ago. He also was Mary's latest ex-boyfriend and fits the description given perfectly." He looks up at Sherlock and John, raising an eyebrow. "Have you got a lead on him?"

"Yes, yes we do. And we're going to catch him. We only ask for time and an open mind," Sherlock starts.

"You know where he is?"

"Yes and no," Sherlock hesitates.

"Lestrade. There's something weird about Myles. He took a camera back to his crime scene. We want to find him and see what those pictures were for. Maybe it's just for a sick, twisted journal of his. Or it could be something even bigger," John cuts in. Lestrade nods at this, thinking the camera was a little weird too.

"But you want him to talk? Let's grab him and make him spill," he says.

"We know he won't talk if that happens." Lestrade looks between the two.

"Then what's the plan?"

"Open mind detective," Sherlock snaps. He nods at John who carefully reaches into his pocket. Jace allows himself to get lifted up by his shirt and stumbles when he's set on the desk. He quickly stands up though, knowing Lestrade is staring at him.

"Hello. My name's Jace, Jace Stenson. I'm going to be the one to get the information out of Millers sir." Jace hesitates, then offers his hand out for the man to shake. Lestrade stares at him, not truly understanding what exactly is going on. But, seeing the hand held out he carefully brushes his finger against it.

Jace yanks his hand back once Lestrade leans back again, hating being that close to a human's hand, unknown too. What was he thinking! He glances back at the two behind him who also share a look of disbelief.

"Please tell me Sherlock hadn't experimented on you and that's why you're so small." Jace actually laughs at this, a smile appearing.

"Oh no. Holmes never did that. I call myself a borrower who now lives with these two without being forced." He smirks at Holmes as the man crosses his arms, angry Lestrade accused of him doing such a thing.

"So you've always been this small?" Lestrade breathes. He keeps his distance but keeps staring at the tiny boy before him.

"Indeed sir," Jace smiles.

"He insisted on being the one to gather the information. He's going to tail Myles and find out why he took the picture of his kill. As soon as we have that, we'll tell you exactly where Myles lives so you can arrest him. We wanted to tell you about Jace so that if you see him, you'll make sure he's safe," John explains. Lestrade slowly nods at this, understanding blossoming.

"Alright. I'll arrest him when you've sent the location. Deal?" All three nod and Lestrade smiles. "It was a pleasure to meet you Jace."

"And to you too." The borrower nods a thank you as Lestrade stands up.

"Please keep me updated. And keep these two safe," he says, aiming the last comment toward John. The doctor nods in defeat. He truly does have two Sherlocks now.

"Yay! Now lets go catch a killer!" Jace exclaims.


	11. Caught

Jace breathes in and out slowly. His dark corner is high above the ground, the same height as Miller's coat pockets. They found out where Miller goes everyday, and the last known vantage point of where Mycroft's cameras stop. Watson and Holmes had dropped him off a while ago. So right now he's Holmesless, Watsonless, bagless, but not trackerless, and defiantly not fearless.

He shivers at the slight breeze. He's been through way worse, but still. He's going to be alone with a _killer_. A _human_ too, which makes it even worse.

"I have the pictures. I really hope you appreciate the work," a voice murmurs. A shadow comes walking by as Jace crouches down, ready to jump. Miller walks into view and he leaps, landing perfectly in his left pocket as he turns the corner. Jace slips all the way to the bottom, careful to not make the human notice a sudden new weight.

He keeps walking though and Jace smirks in victory.

"Mr. Moriarty, I would be the best killer you can imagine. The police haven't been able to figure out I'm the killer yet." A pause. "Sherlock did become a little problem. But isn't he a problem to you too sir?"

Jace's blood freezes as he listens more. Apparently, someone named Moriarty wants another killer, so Miller applied for the job. To become his employee, Miller has to send in photos of his kills, then maybe he'll get the job. And he'll get a lot of money for working for him. About 50,000 dollars in American money per kill.

What kind of twisted person is he dealing with?

"Alright, I'll call you back as soon as I have the last target finished with." Miller shuts off the phone and pockets it on top of Jace. Jace quickly jumps away from getting crushed. He manages to not get crushed, but he gets pressed against the phone as Miller sits down. Jace sits still, not wanting to give his position away.

"Ugh. Why did killing get so hard?" Jace snorts quietly at this. He shouldn't _want_ to kill at all. Miller begins to work on something and Jace slowly moves to his tracker still on his shirt.

Holmes had told him that when Miller was stationary, to hit a button that sends a pulse at his position. As Jace grabs the tracker, Miller stops working and pauses, almost as if he's listening. Jace pauses, finger hovering over the button.

"Come on. You can't seriously be asking for food?" he says. Jace listens but doesn't hear any humans around. And Miller's phone is smashing him. The man sighs and brings forward what sounds like a cage rattling across a desk.

"You should never ask me for food, ever. I saved you and I decide when to feed you." Jace sucks in a breath as the cage gets shoved again, eliciting a very small scream from above. Jace looks up but doesn't see anything. That sound, it sounded like a _borrower_. As he thinks, he sighs knowing how much Watson and Holmes are going to lecture him.

Nodding at what he's doing is to save more than humans, Jace unclips the tracker from his shirt and pins it on Miller's pocket. Clicking the button, he carefully shoves the phone off of him and climbs up the pocket. Miller walks around, muttering about how he should buy new gloves to hide his finger prints. As he walks, Jace climbs to the very top, and once he passes by a counter, leaps onto the top. He sprints behind a vase, panting softly.

Suddenly, there's a bang on the door.

"This is the police! Open up!" Miller spins to the door then runs out the back. Three seconds pass and Lestrade bangs open the locked door. He scans the room then yells at others to find the man who had ran. He pauses before leaving though, looking around the room.

"Jace, you in here?" he whispers. Jace cringes, knowing the human only wanted to check if he was there, and if he was could get him out. He stays hidden though and finally Lestrade runs out, shouting orders.

Once every noise outside is gone, Jace sprints across the counter and to the wooden desk sitting in the corner. He leaps, spotting the cage hidden behind a wooden crate full of tools and wires. Jace slows down as he nears, almost afraid of what he might find.

Circling around the crate, Jace meets bright blue eyes under a mass of light brown hair he never thought he'd see again.

SRSRSRSRSR

Sherlock walks up to Myles, a smirk on his face.

"Caught you. Next time make sure you have the camera with you before you kill the man." Myles sneers, angry he was caught.

"I knew I should've killed you too. You make everything a mess. They would've never found out if not for you Sherlock," Myles spats. John takes the coat handed to him by Lestrade with care. As Sherlock watches the scene of the case finally closing, John quickly searches the pockets for Jace. He takes out a watch, a phone, even a passport, but no sign of Jace.

John goes through the pockets again, even the inside ones. They tracked the tracker to here, where the coat and Myles is now, so where is Jace?

He stops when he feels a familiar object clipped to the inside of the coat's left pocket. John looks closely at it and freezes. He gently unclips it and holds it in his palm. He then offers his palm to Sherlock, who looks down at it in confusion.

"The tracker," he mutters, confirming John's suspicion.

"He took it off. He's no where to be found. Lestrade said he called for him in Myles' house but he didn't answer." John looks around, not understanding where the tiny boy could have gone.

"John, remember that one time Mycroft put a tracker on me?" Sherlock asks.

"You found it 20 minutes later and threw it into the river going in the exact opposite direction you were going," John smirks, remembering Sherlock laughing with joy that day.

"I don't think Jace wanted to be found, he had something to do without anyone around." John stares at Sherlock, not wanting to admit it.

"He's at Myles' place."


	12. Found

Jace couldn't believe it. Sitting right in front of him, dried tears on her cheeks from both hunger and joyfullness is his youngest sister, Clair.

"Clair?" he asks. His arm sticks through the mesh of the cage to grip his sister, to feel her there. She runs over and grabs his arm, crying softly into his hand.

"Jace! You're okay, you're okay." She sinks to the ground and Jace follows, not wanting to leave her side

"Clair, but why are you in London? How?"

"Well, when I turned ten I went out to look for you. Mom and dad had moved into the house next door and so had Rache, so I decided to go look for you. I talked with different barrowers who had seen you and finally I found out you came here. But, but when  
I arrived." She suddenly stops and weeps. Jace holds his other hand out to her, wanting nothing more than to hug his sister tightly.

"Clair. Clair I'm going to get you out." She gasps in surprise and allows Jace to leave her side as he runs to the front of the cage.

"But, but it's locked," she says.

"No, watch." Jace slides his hands into the lock that opens with a key. The wheels of the lock get turned as he shifts them this way and that. After two minutes the lock makes a satisfying _pop!_ He swings the door open, holding his arms out to Clair  
as she races to him.

"You got me out! Oh thank you thank you!" Clair cries softly as he hugs her, hugs her like she would go away if there was even room in his arms for her to slip out of.

"Of course I did. Would your brother ever not get you out?" Jace questions. Clair laughs as she hugs him tighter.

"Thank you so much. Oh, I'm so glad you're safe," she breathes.

"I'm so happy you're safe too." Jace suddenly turns cold, his eyes hard. "He didn't do anything bad? No crushing or anything?"

"Oh no. No no no. He just kept me in there, feeding me crumbs whenever I would nearly starve to death. He didn't even take me out of hold me. I was mostly a trophy," she says. Jace breathes out calmly, so glad he only deprived her of food.

"Oh Clair. I'm so happy you're safe." They fall to the ground, still hugging each other. Only then did Jace hear his name being shouted from a distance.

"Clair, I need you to be strong. There are two humans I trust with my life who are looking for me. I gave them the slip so I could have time to save you." Jace watches his sister carefully as he speaks. Her eyes grow panicked and soft, flooding with tears.

"But, Jace. Myles," she begins.

"Is nothing like them. One is even a doctor who will make sure you'll be healthy in no time. Do you trust me?" She hesitates, being with only one human who has seen her do nothing but trap and starve her has made her fear humans greatly. Yet here is her  
older brother, strong and well taken care of.

"How, how long have you known them?" she whispers.

"About a week, but not once has either of them hurt me," he promises. She slowly nods in understanding and they hear the two calling for him get closer.

"Stenson? John where is he?" Sherlock mutters.

"I truly have no idea. He could be in the house," John says, carefully opening the door to where the tracker had started it's pulse. He looks at the floor in case Jace decided to travel down there. But as he continues looking, he spots a familiar figure,  
only to be next to a smaller figure on the desk.

"Sherlock, I found him. But he's not alone," John whispers.

Jace smiles widely as Watson slowly walks in, clearly not wanting to scare Clair even if all he knew she could be a total stranger to Jace.

"Don't worry Watson! We don't bite!" He calls. Clair tugs at Jace's shirt as he looks down.

"His name is Watson?"

"Oh. No it's John, John Watson. And that," Jace points out as Sherlock walks in, "Is Sherlock Holmes. I call them by their last names because it's easier for me." Clair giggles a little at the statement but stops as the two walk over to the desk.

"Who are you little one?" John murmurs. Clair stares at him, hardly believing he was talking to her gently, and asking her name.

"Clair Bells. Jace's sister," Clair calls. Sherlock smiles at the statement, addressing Jace.

"Thought Bells was too girly for you?"

"I picked Stenson for other reasons Holmes," Jace snaps back. Clair tenses up as her brother snaps at a giant, but relaxes when all that comes back is a smile.

"We better get you home. We'll patch you up nicely Clair," John whispers, seeing how thin the girl is. He glancesat Jace as he offers a hand. Jace nods at it, offering a smile.

"Thanks Watson," he calls. Jace carefully stands up as Clair follows.

"It's okay. See?" Jace hops onto John's hand to show her he could be trusted. John holds his breath at the small amount of weight that was an entire boy fall into his palm. He widens his eyes at Jace who winks at him as he helps his sister climb onto  
the hand.

"Please take us to the flat?" Jace asks.

"Of course." John hesitates then carefully stands up, holding the pair against his chest to keep them steady. It feels so weird, having two actual people in his hand.

"I still don't like how he likes you more," Sherlock huffs. John rolls his eyes with a smile.

"Sherlock, I was he closest. If you offered, he would've gone with you. Besides I'm a doctor. I'm better with people than you," he teases. Sherlock smiles a little at the statement, shrugging.

"Who needs people when you have knowledge." The four walk home in a comfortable silence the rest of the way, Sherlock thinking as Jace combs Clair's hair, happy to see her again after all these years. When they finally get to the flat, Sherlock clears  
off the table as John sits down, allowing Jace and Clair to climb off. Jace picks his sister up, carrying her to the table's surface. She laughs a little, happy to be in his arms.

"Does anything hurt Clair?" John's voice thunders.

"Oh no. I have no bruises or broken bones. Just a little hungry." She stops and looks away at the request.

"Here." Sherlock offers Jace his bag from his pocket. Jace smiles as he takes it and hands Clair a small piece of cereal.

"I promise I'll feed you more, but first you have to stomach that," Jace smiles. She eats it, slowly at first then slowly gaining speed. As soon as it's finished though she yawns and falls asleep in Jace's lap. He looks down a her, so glad he tricked  
his flat mates to save her. Speaking of which...

"Thank you guys so much," he calls, looking at the giants.

"We would've helped anyway." John looks up at Sherlock who shrugs.

"For the name of science." John snorts, knowing Sherlock secretly cares more than that. He gently scoops Clair into his hands and moves her to the chair so she can sleep better.

Sherlock immediately picks Jace up.

"Hey!" Jace yells, moving erratically in the detective's grasp.

"Hush. You let John pick you up." Holmes lifts Jace's arms and legs, bending them every way to see if he truly was mostly human. But his specimen keeps moving opposite the way he wants him to.

"I _allowed_ him Holmes!" Sherlock looks at Jace with his arms cross, considering what was said.

"Alright. I'll find out a way," he smiles. Jace is gently set on the table as he glares at Sherlock, but a smile was on his features.

"Game on Holmes."


	13. The End

A week passes and Clair acts as if she was never hungry a day in her life.

Her and John sit on his favorite chair reading a book as Sherlock writes in his notebook while looking through the microscope.

Jace sits behind the tea jar, breathing shallowly. He carefully looks over at where the human stands, his attention else where. Jace looks at his goal, his breathing minutely quickening. He looks at the human again, knowing he'll get by without detection. It's either that or...

"Jace, I know you're about to run and if you do I'll catch you again," Sherlock announces. Jace freezes, not expecting Holmes to have been able to know he was about to try and reach where 'base' is. And Holmes is staring at a piece of paper!

He ignores the detective, thinking he just is saying that so Jace'll mess up. He prepares again, glancing at Holmes. Then he runs.

In two seconds long, bone crushing fingers circle around him.

"Foul play foul play!" he yells loudly. Sherlock nearly shakes his head as he walks back to the notebook, Jace in his left hand.

"I told you not to run," he says. Jace glares up at him, wiggling to try and escape out of his grasp.

"You shouldn't of been able to see me! You were working!"

"True. But I could hear your breathing and the slight kick you gave the jar as you skid to a halt behind it." Jace growls and finally goes limp.

"Fine. What do you want this time Holmes?"

After the episode with Jace claiming Sherlock has to ask in order to hold him, Sherlock presented a challenge. If Jace can get to 'base', every time at a different place and him starting at random spots, without Sherlock catching him, he gets to go free for the day. No experiments, no holding, nothing. But, if he is caught, he has to do what Sherlock wants all day no matter what. And Jace can redo the game over and over.

Problem is, Jace agreed to a game that Holmes was best at: observation.

"Just try not to fall." Jace looks at Sherlock weird when he's placed on the detective's shoulder. Jace grabs the shirt to keep from falling as Holmes moves forward and backwards to see what's in the microscope and write what he's found.

"Er, why this?" Jace asks. All the other times today Holmes has been prodding him, poking at him, asking him random questions, well random to Jace. But no needles, no rulers this time, just sitting on his shoulder.

"Because I have no other tests to do, yet you still fail, so I went for something that would keep you out of my way yet I could use my turn of catching you." Jace snorts at this.

"Then why can't you just let me go?" He grabs onto one of Sherlock's curls as he's flung forward suddenly once again.

"Because I won," is the answer.

"It can't be that bad Jace!" Clair calls to him.

"He's rubbing it in!" he yells back. Holmes flinches at him yelling so close to his ear and rolls his eyes.

"Please do be careful Stenson." Jace sighs and leans against Sherlock's neck. The skin stiffens, not expecting Jace to do that. It was so, open. Like he was giving into something.

"So what about your latest experiment you're hiding from Watson? How's it coming along?" Jace whispers. Holmes stiffens again as Jace chuckles. "You've been sneaking into the living room for the past five nights in a row now. And by the time Watson's awake or me or Clair, whatever you were working on is gone without a trace." No answer comes until Jace sits up.

"You'll find out soon enough."


End file.
